


JONAS — SKAM Season 5

by Nizhoni93



Series: SKAM Year 3 [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Adulthood, Boy Squad, Boy Squad is Goals, Brother-Sister Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Back Together, Girl Squad - Freeform, He's Not Ready, High School, Humor, Idiots in Love, Isak Valtersen is a Good Friend, Jonas & Eva, Jonas needs to get his shit together!, Kosegruppa, Love, M/M, Magnus Fossbaken has no Chill, POV Jonas Noah Vasquez, Playlist, Review, Romance, Russ - Freeform, SKAM - Freeform, Season/Series 05, Sex, Songs included in story!, Teenage Drama, Thea is Jonas' Older Sister, Third Year, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizhoni93/pseuds/Nizhoni93
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Jonas Vasquez is about to enter his third year at Hartvig Nissen School and he’s got one goal in mind—to tackle this year completely chill. Since drama is best served to people more deserving like Vilde and her review group.But he wasn’t expecting the new school year to also introduce so many glitches in his plan, because Eva may or may not be his girlfriend…again. His mom is helicoptering the hell out of his life and his sister, Thea, is back in town and acting completely haywire.If that isn’t enough, it seems like every student his age has a plan for where they’ll be after graduation, well, all but Jonas.Everything is suddenly feeling very out of whack and if he’s got any chance at surviving this semester, then Jonas might have to face a harsh reality that life isn’t always so laid back where love, family and adulting are concerned.





	JONAS — SKAM Season 5

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I’m writing this series finally and I’m so excited to share it with all of you! First, I should mention this story will be part one of a two part series called, SKAM Year 3 which will directly follow where the show left off and will include two seasons: Jonas (Season 5) and Vilde (Season 6). Each season will have roughly eight to ten full episodes, but like the show, I’ll be breaking the episodes into clips and I’ll try to post updates on the day and time featured in the story when I can because I’m not on Norwegian time. 
> 
> Important things to note:  
> •This is also an interactive playlist fic! I’ll be linking songs to certain scenes, so you guys can listen and read along. Make sure to right click any linked words and open in new tab so as not to interrupt your reading experience. Since I can’t cut the songs exactly how I’d like them, I may sometimes leave endnotes to explain how I imagined the song playing under the scene. 
> 
> •Since this is a full story and not a script, they’ll be a lot more character exposition and inner dialogue then what would be present in the actual show. This means there may also be the occasional flashback. 
> 
> •I’m not Norwegian and will do my best to portray, language, settings and cultural milestones (Russ/Review) as genuinely and correctly as I can through research. To my Norwegian readers…I hope you’ll all bear with me and accept there may be some minor oversights/liberties taken in parts of the story. I appreciate your patience if that’s the case. 
> 
> •I can’t recall if Thea’s age was ever confirmed in the show, but for the sake of this story, Thea will be portrayed as Jonas’ older sister. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read this story and to comment, kudos or bookmark! I hope you enjoy and I hope I do our boy Jonas justice!

# SØNDAG 05:41AM

##  **Eva**

**[Hei](https://open.spotify.com/track/0nfDDaEvIB0FoB6WBF3yOm?si=NviHN4wBQOuQLUJzSw4tng)**

**Can we meet tomorrow?**

**I think we should talk.**

**About us.**  
  
---  
  
**I get the texts two hours before my alarm is set to go off, at 05:41am** and there’s no going back to sleep after that. What I do is stare at my phone _in_ _a war against words_ , willing the letters to rearrange and form a new message that might suddenly make sense. The curtains are drawn, and my face is aglow in the dark, courtesy of the glare ignited by Eva’s text. I’m fully aware I’ve got this slack jaw look going on right now, with drool probably long dried and crusted on my chin— _cute Jonas_ —but I can’t help it. I shuffle up the mattress, slapping a pillow against my headboard so I can sit up and read again, _and again and again_. I’m probably reading into this way more than I should and utter a bemused “us?” because, well… _shit just got real as fuck_ and I’m not exactly prepared for what that could mean.

As far as I was concerned, a week ago there was no “ _us_ ” to discuss.

 _Ja_ , we’ve sort-of-kind-of been a thing over the past few months. I mean, we’ve hooked up exclusively since Eid and I reckon that counts in my favour, but I’ve still no clue where we rank on the thingy-ness scale. Every time I’ve tried to discuss it, Eva’s found reason to change the subject and until recently, I was okay with keeping things casual between us, reluctant to throw around labels if she wasn’t ready.

Then last Fredag at Mahdi’s party, a first-year douche sporting a curtain cut and peach fuzz decided to start flirting out of his league. _Listen_ , I’m normally not the jealous type—but the dude’ wasn’t letting up. Not unless I stepped in. So I may have coolly slipped an arm around Eva’s waste, staring hard at this guy with a brow raised and warning, “ _bro, step off my girlfriend all right, she’s not interested._ ”

Admittedly, it wasn’t a highlight moment in the Jonas Vasquez repertoire of chill. Eva was surely not impressed, rolling her eyes and roughly shouldering passed peach fuzz douche and me in a huff.

“ _Better chase you’re girl ‘bro’, she seems upset.”_

I flipped the asshole off but did what he said, chasing Eva through a crowd of partyers and out the back door. We were alone for the most part—save for one guy, passed out in a shrub with his legs hanging out and his kicks in the air, looking a lot like the wicked witch in that old timey, Wizard of Oz film. 

“ _Eva come on! I’m sorry, all right? Don’t—just, don’t walk away.”_ When we were dating, I’d gotten so used to seeing her stride brusquely away from me that I was trying really hard to not make that a habit again _._

She took pause, her back facing me. I could still hear [music](https://open.spotify.com/track/7gHs73wELdeycvS48JfIos?si=Hpl34aVfTuGbgPTTfHORDw) playing from inside Mahdi’s place, some progressive house song that drowned the silence between us until Eva finally spoke.                                   

“ _You can’t go round’ acting like a caveman anytime someone shows an interest Jonas.”_ She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled a wan sigh, _“You’ve got no…no right!_ ”

“ _No right? You’ve got to be kid—_ I shook my head, incredulous. _“How bout’ that night at William’s then? When those guys were fucking pawing at you, what was I supposed to do, just let it happen?”_

She turned, meeting my eyes with a tetchy glare. I swallowed, hard when she stepped right up to me, jabbing a finger into my shoulder, “ _Not the same and you know it_ ,” and she pointed back toward the house “ _That kid in there, he was harmless. I’m hardly drunk right now, so what’s your excuse tonight, huh?”_

I wanted to tell her that I was annoyed, because here I was, thinking that Chris was my only competition—but even with him out of the picture, there were a million other guys just like him, ready to take his place. Literally lining up to be with her. And well, I hated that I couldn’t just tell them all to _piss right off_ , because I knew exactly what I wanted and that was to have her, _all the_ _fucking strings attached_ and for her to just have me back.

Instead, I grumbled matter-of-factly, “ _That dude was a dick._

_“A dick…so you just figured that out from way across the room, did you?”_

_“He just—he had that look about him.”_

_“A phallic look, then?”_

“ _The fuck? Nai! That’s not what I meant.”_

“ _So please, just tell me what you mean then, because right now, I’m having a real hard time figuring you out.”_

“ _I just…I don’t understand what we’re doing_ ,” I said, gesticulating between us, “ _what this is._ ”

“ _Jonas…_ ” she seemed genuinely taken back and unsure for herself, when she asked me, “ _We’re having fun, aren’t we?”_

_“I mean, ja…I guess, but—_

_“So why can’t that be all we need to worry about right now_?” 

“ _Because...”_ I said, folding my palm into the crook of her neck and stroking my thumb, gingerly over the curve of her jaw, _“I’m not Chris all right? I’m not keen on just, hooking up at parties.”_

She sighed, _“Jonas we agreed—_ and she pushed against my chest, attempting to break loose, but I held firm, using my other hand to cox her back, holding her face between my palms.

 _“Listen, I know what it’s like, to be with you for real. Now, I just don’t think I can accept anything less than that. It’d be like we’re moving backward and I’m not about that life. Get it? It’s a fucking disservice to what we were and everything we can be._ I gave her a little shake, hoping to rattle away some of that stubbornness, _“So can we cut the bullshit and just do something right for once?_ ” I was remembering that night we sat on her front steps on Halloween, not so long ago and said, _“Because it’s ‘us’ Eva.”_

I kissed her then, but she barely kissed back, pulling away too soon. Leaving my lips feeling damn lonely. The insecurity instantly pedalled in—it was an inherent feeling that came with failing utterly while taking a chance. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, playing with a loose thread on her denim jacket.

 _“Agree?”_ I whispered, tilting my head to meet her lowered gaze.

When she looked up, it was with sad eyes, “ _Jonas…_ ” and her tone said it all, placid and pessimistic, “ _We made a mistake thinking this would be easy for us. But look, my mind hasn’t changed and I-I don’t know…I think I need some time apart.”_ She placed her hands atop mine and untangled my hold on her, “ _I’m sorry.”_

…

That was that. Eva walked back inside and I walked my heartbroken ass back home. It was the first official night of fall break and the following morning she was boarding a plane off to Paris, where her mom’s been working abroad the past four months.

So we haven’t seen or spoken to each other since.

Some nights I considered reaching out to her, but almost always talked myself out of it. I’d pick up my phone and even sometimes draft the message, paragraphs upon paragraphs of sappy, uncomfortable shit I’d never admit to—and then I’d remember that night.

How I laid it all out— _straight up risked it all_ —and she left me standing alone anyway.

So I never sent the messages and with eight days of radio silence on her end, I was starting to think I understood where she was as far as the ‘Jeva’ matter was concerned. But then here comes this text, completely out of left field and I’m right back to ‘Jon Snowing’ it again—because apparently I know nothin’.

I throw off my covers and get out of bed. I need a second pair of eyes on this, and since Isak’s rarely without Even, a third pair won’t hurt either. I drop my phone on the mattress and head for the shower, eager to get dressed and get to the bottom of Eva’s text.

…

I’m [walking](https://open.spotify.com/track/2LrTrVQc3jblY2lh61zNsu?si=Csef-hQaRbSTJiFJlWUTxQ) my bike through an ally behind our building; about to cross the iron-gate and bounce when I hear my mum’s bedroom window slide open, two stories above from where I’m standing. Mama sticks her head through the sill, paying no mind to the potted plants that she’s now crushing. She peers down at me, the same moment I peer up at her. I flinch under the scrutiny, rubbing the back of my neck and chuckling tensely because _fuck, I’m caught_.

“Halla mama—

“Don’t ‘halla mama’ me Jonas!” she shouts down, in a threatening way which declares, any moment now she’s about to disappear and come back, brandishing a ladle, “Where’s your helmet?” 

Look, its super reckless to go rolling around without taking proper precautions, _but I don’t know_ , I guess skate culture’s got me rejecting helmets like I do capitalism. 

“I left it at school.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nai, I’m serious! It’s in my locker as we speak.”

I really am telling the truth—it’s wedged somewhere between my Norwegian textbook and that cheese sandwich I forgot to eat at lunch last Fredag and never tossed away. Which means by Mondag, there’s a likelier chance of me being eating by it, because no doubt it’s mutated into a monsterwich by now.

She squints. I get my brows from her—thick and bushy, now knitted in the middle where a hard line cuts down the center of her forehead. She thinks on the dilemma and smirks after a beat—a sly little perk of the lips.

Red flags instantly spring up and I know I have to get out of here, _fast_ , “Anyway Mama, I’ve got to go—

“Nai! You wait right there,” she orders me, pointing down from the window, “I swear Jonas if you’re gone by the time I get back, you’ll be grounded for a lifetime.”

“A Mr. Mugs lifetime?”

Mr. Mugs is the hamster my mother replaces every two years—each time christening the new one with the same name. At first she did it for Thea’s, sake. Thea’s always been super sensitive to that sort of thing and so the death of her first beloved Mr. Mugs would have been way too much for my then, five-year-old sister too handle. But now I just think she just does it because it’s like this fucked up, long running gag that, for some reason we’re all still willing to play along with. We’re on Mr. Mug’s #8. He’s got white paws like little sneakers and red eyes that remind me of tinted Ray-Bans—he’s hella’ stylish, but he’s got a mean bite. I much preferred Mr. Mugs #5—he shit in Thea’s pillowcase once… _ja_ , that little guy was a champ.

“For you’re sake, let’s hope not because he’s living forever.”

I roll my eyes and Mama shoots me a look, warning me not to cross her. I plaster on my best ‘innocent kid’ smile and she disappears back into the flat. I sigh and wait. I think I hear her rustling around in the storage closet, in the hallway next to my bedroom. She’s taking her sweet time looking for whatever the hell’s got me still standing here for. I wring my hands around my handlebars impatiently. It’s these moments, when I envy my friends who’ve got their own flat, and don’t have to worry about their parents supervising their every waking move. I know she’s not purposely trying to be all up in my business, but with Thea living in Bergen and now completely MIA, she’s worrying way more than regular and it’s all being focussed on me. Like she’s totally freaked I might suddenly combust, or break my head open, or be hit by a tram and then…well whom’s she going to be left with if that happens?

We’re taking care of each other—but doing this alone has been exhausting.

Mama resurfaces and comes up with something pink, sparkly and bulbous.

I blanch—it’s Thea’s old skate helmet, the one she used to wear back in sixth-grade. I shake my head, panicky because; _she can’t be serious right now_.

She throws the helmet down to me—hurdles it actually and I trip a little, catching it in my hands.

Mama points down with purpose, “put it on.”

I turn it over, grimacing at the bedazzled “ _Barbie_ ” logo that’s now facing me. “Nai! Ikke faen! I’m not fucking wearing this.” I tell her curtly, because, this is not even a real discussion.

“Language!” She warns me, but she’s tittering a little to herself, enjoying this way too much. “Serves you right for leaving yours at school, which I know you did on purpose by the way!”

“I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Jonas, I’m not fooling around,” she says sharply, obviously unhappy with having to repeat herself, “Put. It. On.”

Unfortunately my sister’s dumb sixth grade head was abnormally large for an eleven-year-old, because the damn thing somehow fits me.

“Mama, do you want me to get my ass kicked?” I gesture to the helmet, “because that’s exactly what will happen if I leave the gate wearing this on my head.” The pink buckles thwack me in the face. Exasperated, I puff at one, blowing it away.

“I’d rather have a bruised boy then a dead boy.”

I cringe, because a part of me knows she’s being serious when she says this, and I’m unwilling to argue further if it means causing her that kind of anxiety.

So I suck up my pride, but still sulk a little—thinking that the universe owes me this small, disparaging moment to mourn my bygone chill cred. “Fiiiine,” I tell her through gritted teeth, “I’ll deal with it.”

She smiles, and it almost makes wearing the helmet worth it. Almost. “Thank you son.” And she kisses her hand twice and waves me off, “love you.”

“Ja, ja, whatever.”

She heads back inside.

I take a second, finding my bearings—adjusting my backpack, and if I’m going to wear the stupid helmet, I might as well go all in, so I clasp the buckles around my chin before I mount my bike.

I do an awkward duck waddle, slapping my feet against the pavement till I guide my bike to mouth of the ally—my exit. The gate is rusted and wrecked on one hinge; it kisses the ground, dragging across the pavement with a shrill keen when I pull the door open. I always wince at the noise, reminding myself yet again to text Simon, our landlord to come by and fix it.

When I look to my left, I stare down Hegermann’s gate. At a distance, if I squint real hard I can make out the Oksefontenen (bull fountain), a powerful symbol in my neighbourhood and huge tourist draw for Torshov. Though, city officials have decommissioned the spouts until things get warmer around here. Probably will be in early spring, to avoid the pipes freezing and cracking. To my right, the street crosses Vogts gate, a popular strip ramped with local shops and restaurants. On one end of Vogts, you’ll find the Soria Moria—where my mom took Thea and me to our first real play. It was _Grease_ , and afterward Thea begged my mom to buy her a greaser jacket exactly like Danny Zuko’s from the gift shop. On the other end is Charlie’s Kebab—my favourite foodstuff place, but Isak says it’s shit and I almost stopped being his friend that day.

I decide to take Vogts to Isak’s place—it’s a longer route, but for some reason I’m craving the exhilaration that comes with racing through Oslo on a busy shopping day.

… 

When I was younger, Mama would never let us bike further than Hegermann’s plass, around the circle and back. So, to keep things interesting, Thea and I made a game of it. We’d pretend we were astronauts, launching into our next mission. Initiation point was outside our building and we’d stand there, readying our ships by pressing invented buttons on the handlebars. “All systems go?” Thea would ask, looking all business—a stark contrast to me giggling and all thumbs up. It was Thea’s job to countdown. She was the captain after all. “3…!” she shouted, loud enough for the entire street to hear, “2…1…BLAST OFF!” We’d pedal as fast as we could—propelling forward. The entire world became this watercolour of galactic colours escaping in the speed of light. Lampposts turned into stars—neighbours turned into aliens—the bull; he became our worst enemy and we’d craft ray guns with our fingers, sound effects escaping our lips as we took aim, _Pew! Pew! Pew!_

We floated together; pulled by gravity’s force to whatever planet we pleased.

…

It’s a whole new [feeling](https://open.spotify.com/track/7ti4qMC7xYQeh1uRzj5XuM?si=B7jH8KoCT9WLLguIH2giww) at seventeen… more grounded, I guess. I don’t need to imagine I’m elsewhere, because I can actually be elsewhere, on my own. Here in this moment, I’m the captain.

I place a foot on the pedal and kick off with the other, and next thing I know I’M FUCKING TAKING OFF.

I bask in the natural glow of Oslo’s morning sky—braided hues of blue and orange—and I breathe in deep, filling my lungs with lethal transit fumes. I’m pedaling hard while I rove down the teeming street, cutting through the air with dynamism. My heart is pounding and all of Oslo feels alive around me. The city is an early riser—already bustling with the commotion and excitement of a new day. Skilfully, I zip between some cars and beat the traffic light. I think someone honks a car horn, but I can’t be sure because I’m too focused on riding this high. The wind whips at my face, catching the exposed curls beneath my helmet. They tickle the back of my neck and my jacket catches some air, flapping like a cape behind me. It’s a wicked feeling.

Shops are opening up and venders are placing sandwich boards outside their doors. 

I pass a produce shop—the sign sketched in pink chalk reads, **WE’VE GOT FIGS! 32-krone per pound**. I’m still reading when I hear a loud whine and look up, moments before one of the kiosks collapses, spitting a parade of oranges into the street. They come rolling into my path and I swerve. Time stretches for a moment as I skid my bike sidelong into traffic, narrowly missing the stampede of impending fruit, but clipping the tail of a tram in my efforts. I don’t fall, but the rail lances through my jacket, leaving a gnarly gash in my arm. I feel the treacly sensation of blood soaking through my sleeve, but I just chuckle in disbelief because—did you see that? _That was a first-class Matrix dodge right there!_

I’m still trying to steady the rapid beating of my heart, when from the sidewalk someone whistles luridly. I glance over and the detractor barks out a laugh and shouts, “Nice moves Barbie!”

My cheeks turn hot. I imagine for a split second, being back in space—a Barbie space helmet the only thing between mortality and me and without a dithering, I surrender the helmet and let my head explode.

…

I get to Isak’s building and shoot him a text.

## **Isak**

**Dude, I’m outside.**

**Umm, the fuck?**

**Hide your dicks and let me up**

**You realize what time it is, right?**

**Well aware.**

**Listen, Eva sent me this cryptic ass text.**

**Still trying to understand what** **that’s got to do with me?**

**I need advice**

**And you couldn’t wait till, idk…** **I’ve woken up and  
had a coffee at least?**

**Come on man, it’s important!**

**So is my beauty sleep.**

**Even says go away, it’s too early for this shit.**  
  
---  
  
 

My phone pings, this time with a new message from Even.

## **Even**

**I said no such thing.**

**I’m happy Eva reached out!**

**Thx man! Let me up?**

**Isak might kill me.**

**Nah, you’re the only person on earth he’s not gunning for.**

**He’d kill a bunny before he killed you.**

**OMG! 🤣**

**Poor bunny!**

 

## **Isak**

**WTF are you conspiring** **with my boyfriend about!?**

 

## **Even**

**Kay, I can’t turn away a friend in need.**

**See you in a sec.**

   
  
---  
  
The buzzer sounds, unlocking the gate and I smile, pulling it open. I secure my bike in the courtyard and I’m about to head upstairs before pausing to send Isak a final text.

 

## **Isak**

**Nice helmet.**  
  
---  
  
_Fucking hell._

 

…

There’s no order to Isak’s and Even’s flat.

Even’s sketches are plastered all over the walls; Isak’s textbooks hang open, strewn haphazardly over their bed. Xbox games litter the floor. There’s clothing everywhere, dirty or clean? I’m not really sure. Their furniture was bummed from a dozen different flea markets; nothing matches and no piece has an equivalent.

It’s so disorganized, and somehow, the unfettered clutter of it all coalesces perfectly. This place is their place—a motley collection of everything that makes ‘them’ them and that’s why I like hanging here. 

I’m sitting on the kitchen counter beside a sink full of dishes, bouncing my heel up and down to a steady rhythm against the cupboard while I wait for Even. He’s getting the first aid kit from where it’s stashed under the sink in the bathroom. Isak sits at the breakfast table with his chair turned to face me. He’s got an elbow rested on the tabletop, holding my phone in one hand and a mug of steaming coffee in the other. He already aware of the truncated version of my ‘ _kinda second breakup_ ” with Eva, so I don’t bother to fill him in. He sips from the mug, squints over the rim while he reads. He looks mad confused by Eva’s words.

“Thought you said she needed some time.”

“Ja well, that’s what she told me.” I rub the back of my neck and sigh, damn stressed. “I’ve no idea what’s got her second-guessing now, I mean, if that’s even what’s happening.”

“You don’t suppose that’s the case?”

“Maybe…” I think for second, grasping at straws for a logical explanation, “maybe she just feels shitty for how things went down that night and she ready to apologize.”

Isak furrows his brows, looking totally unconvinced, “Okay, butt-hurt much?”

I chew my lip and stay quiet, embarrassed. I don’t even bothering refuting because, _why bother?_ I’m upset with Eva for ditching me, _sure_ , but I’ve got no good reason to actually expect an apology. She’s done nothing wrong, besides speaking her truth.

_I just don’t happen to believe in that truth for a second._

“Besides, you really think she’d put herself out there like that? All to rehash the same shit.”

True enough. It’d be needless for Eva to reach out and simply reconfirm what’s already been said, which is— _we’re over_. It’d do nothing to save face and if anything it’d be even crueller. Eva’s not a cruel person, so I just don’t see that being the case. But why else would she want to revisit that night, if not to discuss moving on?

“I come baring gauze!” Even announces, walking back into the room waving the first aid kit in the air.

I smile appreciatively, carefully shucking off my jacket. Even sets the kit down, snapping open the latch and he flips the cover over. A crimson cross is revealed inside. Even’s eyes zero in on the soaking fabric concealing the worst of my run-in with the tram. He steps closer and rolls up my t-shirt for a better look. “Yikes!” he clicks his tongue, “That’s just awful.”

“S’not that bad.”

He hits me with a hard, scolding look; one that says, “ _Really buddy? You’re bleeding all over my damn counter_ ,” and then he starts patching me up while Isak updates him.

“She didn’t have to reach out,” Even says matter-of-fact. He soaks a cotton pad with some peroxide and dabs my arm with it. The sensation is sharp and nips at the cleaved skin. I hiss and Even pulls’ back, cringing apologetically, “Sorry, really bad?” 

I shake my head, sucking it up. “Don’t worry,” I assure him, opening and closing a fist to try an relax the tense muscles, “Nothing I can’t handle. Go ahead.” He tosses the pad and soaks another.

“Eva could have left things as they were.” He carries on cleaning and adds, “but obviously she’s had time to think over the break and she’s not feeling right about something.”

“Why today though?” I ask him, because her random timing genuinely baffles me as much, if not more, than the esoteric text. “Why not last week, when she had every opportunity to tell me how she felt?”

“You think she’s hiding something?” Isak asks inquisitively, “After all, Eva’s kept secrets from you before.”

“Nah,” I tell him brusquely, because that’s just not the case. “There’s no way man. Things are different with us now. We don’t hide stuff anymore.”

“Ja, but you’re not ‘together’ though. She might not be lying, but she’s also got no real reason to tell you everything going on in her life.”

I muse over his words; realising Isak may be onto something. _Come to think of it_ , Eva and me haven’t spoken much beyond our regular pre-hook-up flirting and those conversations weren’t exactly _deep_.

I’m thinking we haven’t said more because there’s never been opportunity too.

Like she only ever meets me at parties or at my place, and she’ll dip almost straightaway right after. I haven’t even been over to hers or stayed the night since we started this again. I do remember one time I dropped by her house. I knocked on her window like I used to, and she answered looking super pissy. Apparently she was doing exam prep and I shouldn’t have shown up, completely unannounced _without calling first Jonas!_

Thing is, I’ve never called before—not once.

I even offered to help her study; something I did all the time when we were dating, but she told me to go home and she’d call me later.

 _It’s strange_ , but thinking on that night and every hook-up before it, I’m only now realising how strategic Eva’s been in building this invisible wall between us. Its almost like she’s been afraid to let herself get close to me again. 

Even reaches into the kit and brings out the gauze. He pats the tongued end over my cut. The skin there is still pink and raw, but it looks much less gruesome now. He starts winding the ball tightly around my arm. Offhandedly he asks, “Issy, can you hand me the scissors?” Isak get up and starts rummaging through a shambolic drawer full of ketchup packets, rubber bands and tools. He comes up with the dual blades and passes them to Even. Even thanks him, leaning back and Isak smiles into the kiss.

I’m a creep for looking. But there’s this odd feeling of envy lapsing though me, seeing their cute moment. It’s so inherently them and I’m realising I miss sharing that same connection with Eva. We’ve been playing this physical game of catch-up by throwing ourselves at these hungry, heated hook-ups and we’ve completely forgotten how to just _be_ us.

I remember when our kisses weren’t always so rushed and bruising, because we actually took the time, to be in the moment and savour each other. And sometimes we’d spend entire weekends in bed, talking about all kinds of worldly shit…and _yes_ , that included our favourite memes.

We’re both traditionalist. Eva liked “success kid,” that meme of the baby holding a fist in the air, whereas I’m more of a “bad luck Brian,” kind of guy.

We had fun, because, we shared this natural playfulness that came with simply being together. Like when we’d make breakfast the mornings after. Somehow we’d work so perfectly at fucking shit up—shaking with panicked laughter so hard, it hurt, and throwing utensils because, “ _Eva the eggs! The eggs are fucking smoking! Jesus Christ, hand me the spatula girl!”_

I’m smirking while thinking about it.

Even drops the scissors in the sink. The clatter derails my train of thought. He meets my eyes, looking intense and way too invested when he asks, “have you texted her back?” I shake my head. Even ponders while he grabs a safety pin from the kit and unfastens it with one hand. His other hand is gentle against my arm and he starts to pin the gauze in place.

“Look Jonas, I've learned life's not always like a movie...no matter how much we try and control the outcome, sometimes things won't turn out the way we hope." 

_Sure as hell not._

Even takes in my deflated expression, crouching slightly on giraffe legs to tilt his head and meet my lowered gaze. “but that doesn't mean you have to leave everything up to blind faith either. It's a balancing act I suppose. Maybe sometimes we let the chips fall where they may and maybe other times we say _fuck_ _that!_ And just fucking go for what we want." 

He nudges my knee with his knuckle, a rousing little encouragment. "I'm seeing you have an actual chance at writing your own sequel here. A _real_  opportunity to right things with Eva, you can't just pass that up." He raises a brow, high up on his forehead and teasingly asks, “Agree?”

“Nai.”

Even’s expression falls and I don’t think I’ve ever disappointed someone more.

There's still this balled up knot of indecision heavy in my gut, and I try eplaining myself, “Look, I can’t be sure Eva wants the same thing. It’s too risky.”

Isak scoffs, “Dude come on now, Eva’s hung up.” He pushes off the table and flashes me the screen, “what else could this mean? She’s been hung up since that first night Ingrid introduced you two, and you’re no exception either.”

He tosses the phone at me and I fumble awkwardly, using my good hand to catch it. “Bro, don’t go throwing my stuff like that!”

Isak carries on, unfazed, “For a while things were utter shit between you both, but look, you’re here still pining over Eva two years later. That hasn’t changed and now you don’t even want to see where this goes or hear her out?”

“I don’t fucking pine.”

“ _Oh?_ ” Isak deadpans, “What do you call it then? Because I call waking up at the _fucking_ ass crack of dawn and dragging your best friend out of bed over a _fucking_ text the definition of FUCKING pining!” 

I open my mouth, close it and open it again but no words come out.

“Ja, exactly what I thought.”

I shoot him a glare because he doesn’t have to be a dick about it—even if he is right.

The weeks post-breakup were rough, Eva and I hit a fork in our friendship and it just wasn’t working for us anymore. So we veered on opposite paths, toward people we thought could help us move on. Problem was, that connection between us never went away. We’d catch eyes in the hallway all the time, steal smirks at parties and get fucking wasted and do stupid shit like start fights with random guys in corridors, or fall on our asses in front of each other. It wasn’t over… _not really_. I know I haven’t imagined the connection on her end. But if Eva really was having qualms about us, why then, was it so easy for her to say no to a second chance?

“Whatever man, that still changes nothing. She made her choice. She was perfectly fine with hooking up but soon as things got real, she peaced.” I’m looking at my hands when I say bitterly, “She walked away.”

There’s a moment before Isak speaks again and what he says next, catches me and Even both.

“So did we.”

I look up and Isak’s gaze is no longer on me—it’s on his boyfriend. Even is staring back and their eyes are intensely sombre. I may only know part of their story, but I remember last year being on the outside looking in. Those months, Isak spiralled into a dark place trying to make sense of his feeling for Even and all the baggage surrounding that.

Isak continues, “Even walked first, because he was afraid I’d react badly to him having bipolar disorder.”

I spare a glance at Even because this can’t be easy to hear, and I’m right. He looks downright uncomfortable, literally balks at Isak’s words. But he nods for Isak to continue, because Isak’s not saying this to be damning or mean; he’s trying to help me understand.

“And I suppose he was right because when shit hit the fan, that’s when I walked away.” Isak reaches out, and Even accepts his hand. Isak soothes circles into Even’s skin with his thumb. “But only because I didn’t understand, baby.”

“I know,” Even winks and a corner of his lip kicks up, into a gentle and crooked smirk, “We found our way back though.”

“Ja,” Isak smiles, looking so damn thankful for that, “We did.”

This right here, it’s one of those minute moments they’re always talking about. A fleeting reminder of that time when being together as they are now seemed impossible. It’s a hard time for them to look back on, but it’s an important period in their history nonetheless. It feels insanely surreal, standing here and reliving it with them.

After a beat, Isak comes back to himself. He releases Even’s hand so he can look at me.

“My point is…” and he sounds vehemently thoughtful as he says, “people make mistakes. We’re all human. Look, I’m not saying Eva’s not wrong for walking away but maybe you should be giving her the benefit of the doubt, at least until you know the whole story.” He chuckles to himself, like he’s recalling something; “I can’t believe I’m actually taking a page out of the _Magnus Fossbakken Advice Book_ right now.”

“Think about this,” Even adds, “worst case scenario, you’re right back where you started but best case, you get a fucking epic ending with Eva.”

I soak it in, everything they’ve told me. I think I can see where they’re coming from now. These guys have been through the wringer, _hell_ they’ve put each other through the worst of it. Yet, here they are literally standing before me as the most solid couple I know. Only because they’ve come to blows with their past by facing their demons head on and trusting in each other completely.

And it’s got me wondering, if Eva really is dealing with something more than she’s let on and if that ‘something’ could answer everything. I think now I’m willing to listen, because if there’s even the slightest chance she and I can work this out and be endgame, then I’m willing to risk rejection for that.

“Takk guys,” I look between Isak and Even. “Truth,” I say with a smile, “You boys are fucking unbelievable.” 

They smile back. “We know,” they answer together, because they’re always scarily in sync with each other and while it’s totally creepy it also gets us laughing. 

After I’ve caught my breath, I check my phone. The screen comes alive and Eva’s message is still there, awaiting my reply. I swallow hard, and I start to type. 

“You texting her?” Isak asks curiously. 

I nod, and keep typing. “Have to do it sometime, I suppose.” 

 **To Eva:** “ **Meet at Nissen then? Before class.”** I click send and my heart races when I realize she’s typing back, almost immediately.

“Shit, she’s responding.”

Isak and Even come to stand beside me so they can observe, _like good nosy friends do_. 

My phone pings and I read Eva’s text, “ **Halla!** **Yes, of course. Where at?”**

I think about it and reply, **“Front steps?”**

The next text comes just as quickly, “ **That works. I’ll see you tomorrow then.** ” And she follows with, “ **Takk for responding Jonas.”**  

I smile, because for the first time in while I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of hope thinking Eva is actually coming around. But I also want to keep things subtle, so I shoot her a ‘thumbs up’.

I feel like an ass, almost instantly after sending the message.

“Fuck, why’d I do that?” Eva’s actually opening up and I go and send her the most generic fucking emoji of all the emojis. “I should’ve sent something else.”

“I got this,” Even says plucking my phone out of my hand and starting to type before I even realise what happening. 

I hop off the counter, sceptical. “Wait what are you doing?”

He smirks before clicking send and hands back my phone.

“A fucking heart emoji Even!” _I’m going to murder him. Like fucking dead and buried and Isak’s going to want to avenge that shit, but I’ll end him too because guilty by association and all that._

“Nai,” Isak frowns, reading over my shoulder and then he’s staring at Even, looking legit disappointed in him, “Baby you didn’t…”

“Now’s not the time to be anything but forward!” Even defends, “She’ll respond, just watch.”

“I’m not that fucking desperate dude!”

We wait a beat, but there’s no typing bubble on Eva’s end. The minute feels too long.

“Okay…” Isak says awkwardly, “Maybe send like a counteracting message, or something.”

“Like what?”

“Got it!” Isak grabs my phone, and _nai_ not this again. I reach for it, but he turns his back and starts typing.

“You better not be sending a poop emoji man!”

Isak turns around, looking way to proud of himself.

I check the message and my eyes go wide, “You two are fucking unbelievable!” 

Isak chuckles, “You already said that.”

“Ja well the connotation has changed drastically!” _Dicks_.

My phone pings. Isak and Even lean over my shoulder and I shrug them off, way to frustrated right now.

## **Eva**

👍

❤️

💩

**Okay, I feel like I’m getting really mixed signals right now lol**  
  
---  
  
Before I can respond she sends another text:

❤️  
  
---  
  
I stare at screen, completely dumfounded. Even high fives Isak and I think Isak is saying something along the lines of being a better love guru than Eskild but I’m not listening anymore because…

 _Shit just got real as fuck_ and I’m still not prepared for what that could mean.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the link to the actual playlist for this story:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/c5l9842dtgk9ralvpwo9wysnq/playlist/2YZXhd4nJjV2k75MMktKZ8?si=kbzEv2lISByfu9q5RV9wJQ
> 
> I'll be adding new songs every update! 
> 
> Also, I won’t have the opportunity to update again till the beginning of April because of class commitments. Please don’t hate me! The good thing is I’ve outlined the entire story and so I should have a solid update schedule in place once the semester is over! See you soon xoxo.
> 
> I'd really appreciate any feedback in the comments section! Thanks again everyone xoxo


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